To enter the graveyard Alessandra had to dodge the hard stones on the rocky path and shield herself from the freezing winds that blew past her. She pulled up to the location and only had on a thin white sweater over a white spaghetti strap shirt and grey leggings. Her appearance was slightly horrendous as she had no makeup on at all and her hair was tied in a messed up ponytail. A black gate made of solid steel stood tall at the entrance as well as black pillars standing on each side.The memorial park was located in Los Angeles. That day there was no else there but herself and she couldn't help but feel so alone, yet connected with herself more spiritually.

Upon entering the memorial park, there were cemetery headstones everywhere. And here she was to welcome the dead with a bunch of yellow roses in her leather gloved hand. She paused, looked around for a brief moment and took a deep shaky breath. Her eyes were still swollen from the night before. Then she remembered why she was here.

Since that day of the incident involving her best friend, she always had an urge to come back to this place. Alessandra wanted to talk to him and this is the only way she know how. Even if the frigid bones underground would not be able to respond to her, she at least wanted to close the gap between her and him for just a brief moment which would be cherished dearly. In that brief moment, she would be able to feel his platonic love again. 

As the wind continued to increase the coldness in the air, she walked to her left and spotted the pine trees. There, she found herself kneeling at a gravestone with the words beautifully engraved into it:

In Loving Memory Of

Baby Beel
https://mafiareturns.com/news/uprofile.php?id=2048291

Beloved Baby Detective

Died 8th July 1935

Aged 6 Months

Good Night & God Bless.

In this place of loving words, Alessandra found herself unable to stop the the tears that started to slowly travel down her cheeks. War, takedown, whatever it was - she believed that we all were just sailors of a stormy sea blaming each other for the wind. If everything had gone differently, her best friend would still be on this earth, but it was too late for that now - violence comes with entering the life of crime. As the mob bosses say, 'nothing personal just business'. 

She patted her eyes dry of the tears that stained her face before placing the flowers upon his grave. Then she stood up. The wind bothered her no more. She needed something - anything - to make her feel like she was still there. Like she wasn't just made permanently numb and traumatised from the death of her best bud. On her way back home, she decided to search for answers.